


Brother, Bastard

by dieofthatroar



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Drug Abuse, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, F/M, Ghosts, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 02:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieofthatroar/pseuds/dieofthatroar
Summary: Klaus knew why. Ben was special, yes. His brother. His best friend. But death didn’t work by familiarity and didn’t bend to the wishes of the living. There were reasons for hauntings. Ties that twisted Klaus and Ben together like ghosts who couldn’t leave their homes. The last place they laid their heads.Klaus knew why. Hauntings, they happened for a reason.





	Brother, Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> My take on "what killed Ben?" A Ben and Klaus character study.

There were other times Ben was able to touch Klaus—before the end of the world. Before Klaus knew that his power could reach across the divide and make Ben corporal again. A hand on his back as Klaus heaved into the toilet, a gentle shove out of traffic when he was so high he couldn’t see the headlights and the sound of the horn got lost in the music in his head, or a pinch when his head lolled to the side and his eyes went too glassy.

Sometimes, Ben didn’t believe it himself. This halfway world he was in dulled all his senses and made it feel like he was always in a dream. He would sleep and wake to Klaus’s whims. Or, not his whims, but his needs. Klaus would get loud and bright while the rest of the world faded away. Occasionally, worse, when the world would get loud and bright while Klaus faded away.

Those were the times he reached out his hand, just in case it actually met flesh. In case he could actually save his brother from whatever hell he walked into this time.

Sometimes, it worked.

* * *

Even with the drugs, Ben wouldn’t disappear. Klaus could get himself so high he’d walk home in heels he’d stolen from a mate’s girlfriend and be none the wiser, but Ben would still whisper into his ear. _Idiot,_ he’d say. _You’ve lost your keys again._

Klaus knew why. Ben was _special,_ yes. His brother. His best friend. But death didn’t work by familiarity and didn’t bend to the wishes of the living. There were reasons for hauntings. Ties that twisted Klaus and Ben together like ghosts who couldn’t leave their homes. The last place they laid their heads.

Klaus knew why.

He wished a handle of vodka would be enough, smashed on the floor, the remnants of the alcohol seeping in between his toes. One more drink—it would be enough to silence the Russian man screaming in the corner and the child weeping at the foot of the bed. One more drink would never be enough for Ben.

When Klaus woke up in the hospital the next day, Ben by his side, he never knew whether to feel relieved or angry.

Still, Klaus knew why.

Hauntings, they happened for a reason.

* * *

If Ben were feeling generous about himself, he’d call himself a guardian angel. He would tag along behind Klaus to these basement parties with flashing lights and sweaty skin on skin. He’d watch the others, even if Klaus wasn’t. He could see who’s attention Klaus caught. Who licked their lips and ran a hand over their pants while gazing at Klaus’s ass on the dance floor.

“It’s spiked,” Ben shouted over the din as Klaus accepted another drink from the man down the bar.

“Even better,” Klaus said as he downed it.

“With _roofies_ —fucking—”

Klaus licked the last drops from the rim and smiled. Smiled _through_ Ben into the crowd.

Sometimes, he was a guardian angel. Other times, Ben knew he was a curse. A fucking ghost just standing there as his brother was led, limp and willing, out the exit and into a car. A car driving to a lonely apartment in god knows where.

They walked right through him. Through the door that shut with a shuttering _bang_ and the kitchen with piles of dirty plates and empty bottles of beer. The floor creaked with the weight of the man pushing Klaus against the wall and ripping off his shirt. His pants. Somehow, he’d already lost his shoes along the way, and so Klaus’s scabbed and dirty feet were the only thing keeping him upright as the man left him to grab condoms and lube and a line of rope from his chest of drawers.

And Klaus? He stood there and giggled. He stared at the ceiling, undressed and wobbling, and not seeing a thing. Not the bed, the terrible red wallpaper, the dust on the blinds. Not the man now shoving a hand down Klaus’s underwear, teeth scraping against his neck. Not the world.

And definitely, surely, not the ghosts. Not the ghosts. Not the ghosts.

Ben could only stare as his brother collapsed onto the bed and let the man tie him. He wouldn’t have had the energy, the mind, to leave anyway. But it was all a game and Klaus knew the dance by now. He lifted his hips, hands secured above his head, and the man took him. The man, with his ugly, bellowing, grunts and nails that dug into Klaus’s skin so hard he bled.

Klaus only huffed, a small, soft sound, when they finished. He closed his eyes and listened to their breathing.

And when the man left Klaus there, tied and naked and shivering, to take a shower and get dressed again, Ben was the one who comforted him. Who talked about the snow that had started to fall outside and the new movie that he wanted to see, if Klaus could sneak them in.

“Why are you _still here,”_ Klaus said. The first time tonight he sounded angry.

“I—you know I just can’t—”

Klaus didn’t meet his gaze. His red-rimmed and sunken eyes rolled in his head as he stared up at nothing. Ben frowned but didn’t say another thing. Instead, he reached up then, not thinking too hard about what he was doing, to untie the ropes from his wrists. He could see where they had rubbed the skin raw and noticed the way Klaus was squirming from the pain.

They loosened at Ben’s touch. Ben stopped, stunned, and looked at his hands. They still passed through sheets and lamps and Klaus’s gooseflesh shoulder, but they did this one thing. This one small thing that let Klaus relax, just a little.

But Klaus didn’t notice. He sniffed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

* * *

Polysubstance _use. Risky sexual behavior. Homelessness. Followed by psychiatry—undiagnosed_?bipolar _disorder, ?schizophrenia, refractory to medical intervention—lost to follow up. History of suicidal ideation with past attempts._

Yes, Klaus had taken a look at his medical records on his most recent jaunt in the emergency room. It was too easy, really. They give you those little stickers and you can just roll one of those nurse computers into the room that was pre-logged in and shut the door. _Sensitive exam!_ He’d say if someone tried to come in. _Give us a moment!_

_“Will respond well to praise,”_ Klaus read. “Do you see this? Makes me sound like a kinky motherfucker, doesn’t it? If they only knew.”

“Is that how it is, then?” Ben said. “If I just stroke your ego a little more, will you finally listen to me?”

“Oh, you know you’ve got to stroke more than that, honey.”

“Bastard, I’ve seen where your dick’s been,” Ben said.

Klaus winked. “Oh, lookie here. You’re listed as my emergency contact! How sweet.”

Ben circled around him to squint at the computer screen. There was his name, _Ben Hargreeves - Brother._ There was even a phone number, though just from one of the many cheap phones Klaus had bought and forgotten or ditched over the years. He remembered, vaguely, giving it to a shrink at one point when he checked into rehab.

“Should you just write Allison’s name? Or Vanya’s?” Ben said. “In case, you know, there really was an emergency?”

“And spoil the fun? Of course not. Can you imagine Allison actually showing her pretty face here? She’d just _rumor_ me through the phone and leave it at that.” Klaus laughed. “If I die, it’ll be much more exciting if it was a surprise to our dear old fam.”

“Don’t say that shit,” Ben said.

Klaus shrugged and pushed the computer back out into the hallway. “I’ll always have you.” The way he said it, though, wasn’t a comfort. It wasn’t kind or generous. It was heavy, like lead. Guilt passed through him for a moment as he saw Ben cross his arms at the corner of his vision. He pushed the feeling away, ripped the IV out of his arm, and walked out without signing any of that bullshit paperwork. He still didn’t have any shoes on. 

* * *

Ben didn’t know what would happen to him if Klaus died. Would he vanish? Would he stay tied to something else in the living world? Or would he still, after all, follow Klaus to whatever underworld would welcome him in?

He didn’t want to find out.

It was summertime and Klaus had followed the gaggle of skimpy-dressed and careless youth to a nearby music festival. He flirted his way into some weed from a blonde-haired girl with glitter paint splattered over her exposed belly, then, later, slept his way into some benzos in a tent pitched at the edge of the campgrounds.

The voices had been bothering him recently, Ben knew. He had been skittish and restless, always looking over his shoulder and hiding his head in his hands in the dark. The ghosts would reach out at him, screaming. He knew it was bad when Ben could see them too. Ben could only see the other ghosts when Klaus couldn’t control them.

When Klaus, selectively, held them at bay. For his sake? For Ben’s? He didn’t know.

But they were screaming and clawing and making Klaus insane. So, he took one pill after another, hoping it would be enough. This place, where they could hear laughing and cheering all around them, Ben watched Klaus try to smile.

“I have more,” the girl said into Klaus’s ear. “I can tell you want them. Just come to bed with me first. We’ll get you more. I promise.”

Klaus bent into the girl’s arms, touched her hair and tugged at himself. He ignored Ben, ignored the others crowded into that stuffy tent, and got himself off on the anticipation of silence. The girl gasped and locked her legs around Klaus’s torso and they rocked together to the beat of the distant music.

After, Klaus swallowed those pills like they were gumdrops, one after another, until his eyes slipped shut and his body shut down.

“Klaus!” Ben shouted, feeling his own connection to the world shiver. “Klaus, hey! You’ve gotta get up!”

Klaus didn’t stir.

The girl was off somewhere else. She had left the flap of the tent unzipped and the rush of summer night air rustled the walls. Feet went past, shuffling and drunk, winding their way to tents far away.

Klaus started to heave. It was an involuntary thing, chest lurching stomach tightening. Ben saw a trickle of spit form on the edge of his lips before stink of half-digested Doritos and beer.

“Shit,” Ben said. “Shit, shit, shit. Klaus! Klaus, open your fucking eyes!”

The sound was horrible. As Klaus tried to breathe, chin tilted toward the sky, all that happened was a gurgling sound. Drowning.

It was instinct, nothing more. Ben had learned long ago that he could not touch. Could not feel. Could not seek warmth from Klaus’s skin or turn over a glass in front of his fingers. But here? Ben grabbed Klaus’s shoulder and heaved, turning him over to his side and watching, with satisfaction, as the vomit cascaded down onto the mess of blankets.

Klaus drew in a breath.

“Yo, hey, Carrie you in here—oh, shit.” A man stood had poked his head into the tent, cigarette in one hand and a half-empty bottle of something in another. “Dude? You okay?”

Ben wanted to yell, _no, he’s not, you buffoon,_ what good that would do. Klaus gave another heave. His breath started to slow.

“Shit. Uh, I think I gotta get someone.”

Later, when Klaus woke up with an oxygen mask over his face, he didn’t thank Ben. He hardly looked at him, instead choosing to pick dirt from the creases in his hands.

“You idiot,” Ben said. “You know how close you were this time?”

Klaus didn’t respond. The only way Ben knew Klaus could still hear him was the way his fingers flexed at his sharp words and the way Klaus turned his head, almost imperceptibly slowly, away.

“Fuck you,” Ben said. “Look at me.”

“You know,” Klaus said. It sounded so casual as if he was chatting with a stranger on a park bench. “It would be so much quieter if you’d shut up once in a while.”

“What?” Ben said.

“Shut up,” Klaus repeated, voice still honey-smooth and sweet. “Just like the rest of them. Blink away. Poof! Gone from my head and I can _pretend_ I’m not crazy.”

“You’re not—”

“Are you truly going to finish that sentence?” Klaus said and laughed. “Crazy, crazy, crazy. Certifiably so, my shrink let me know, personally. I keep thinking, maybe if I take just one more. Find the _right_ drug this time, you’d be gone too.”

Ben wanted to say _I didn’t ask for this either,_ but he did. Ben asked for this life and Klaus, poor seance Klaus, had given it to him.

“You want that?” Ben asked instead.

“I want to fuckin’ forget,” Klaus said. “But you. Won’t. Let. Me.”

“I gave you a choice!” Ben said. “You could have said, no.”

Klaus looked at him then, smudged makeup only making the bags under his eyes more distinct. “You know I could never say no to you.” 

* * *

It wasn’t a mistake, the day Ben died. He could blame it on many things, his father’s demands, his own lack of control. Later on, he would be convinced that it was on purpose. Trial by fire, as Reginald would have put it. Throw the baby in the water and see if it could swim.

Let Them loose, completely, and see if Number Six could handle it. If he could, then his control was complete. If he couldn’t? Well, then it was good he was dead. Then, he was less likely to destroy the world.

The villains that day were ripped to pieces. One after another left as bloody shreds across the floor. But then, he couldn’t stop. They kept coming from keep within his chest, from beyond. They had tasted blood and they weren’t going to stop. Nothing Ben could do would stop them.

His family was next, he was sure. Allison, looking back at him from the door with a horrified face. Luther screaming orders at him from somewhere to his left. And Klaus, hands up and calm as he could be, saying he would be okay. That he could do this. Control it.

Ben fell to his knees, hands grasping at his torso. He was on fire and he knew nothing now could stop it. He was already being torn apart.

Klaus was still there at his side, even though he should have been running. Lovely Klaus. Caring, crybaby, Klaus. _Toughen up Number Four,_ Reginald would tell him. Ben could hear his father through the walls of their home. _What use is it to cry for the dead?_

“Please,” Ben said. He could taste blood on his lips. “Kill me.”

Klaus looked as if he got slapped. “What are you talking about? I’ve seen you pull Them back from this before.”

“No,” Ben said. He was sweating, shaking. Mad with the effort it took to make Them ignore Klaus. “No, not this time. I can’t, I—If you stay any longer They’ll—” He let out a strangled cry.

“I can’t,” Klaus said. “I can’t do that. I won’t—”

“If you don’t, They will!” Ben said. “I _know_ what you said about the dead. I’d rather be stuck with you my whole afterlife than—arghh—”

Ben shut his eyes. The pain was everything. It pulsed through him and made his mind go blank. He wouldn’t be able to hold them off much longer.

And then, he felt the cool touch of metal on his neck. He opened his eyes to see Klaus looking like he was about to throw up. “I’ll see you soon, bro,” he said, and slit Ben’s throat.

* * *

“You know,” Klaus said, after Ben punched the pills from his mouth, “if I’d known about this trick earlier, we could have had _so much fun.”_

“Ew,” Ben said.

“Aw, come on. I’m not always being dirty,” Klaus said. He frowned. “Okay fine, a little. But imagine this. You, me, gorgeous man between us. I give you the signal and you, you know, give me an extra hand to work with—”

“Again,” Ben said. “Ew.”

“You _did_ know about this earlier, didn’t you!” Klaus said, pointing a finger at him. “You fucking bastard. Years of wasted potential!”

“I can only do it when you need me, idiot,” Ben said.

Klaus pouted. “Oh,” he said, “but I always need you.”

And Ben thought that almost sounded genuine.

 


End file.
